My New Word
by Alive At Last
Summary: Sodapop learns a new word in school and decides to flaunt it around the town.


**My New Word**

**Summary:** Sodapop learns a new word in school and decides to flaunt it around the town.

**A/N:** This is based off of a true story. Me and my friend, Tamara, after learning this special word, would go around, yelling at each other or others, "You pile of sticks!" in a harsh, violent tone. And boy was it fun! I'll go ahead and put him a grade lower than I was when I did this(I was in 8th). Also, a few little terms in here are some my friends, or I, have said. At the end I'll put who said it.

* * *

It was a month before winter break; Sodapop couldn't keep his mind on the teacher since there was a winter wonderland out the windows. As he would say, So close, but yet so far away. It also didn't help much that his seat was in the far back corner, next to the wide window. The snow fell heavily and without stop. He watched as it piled upon the cars sitting idly on the streets, on the trees and ground. Not many cars were moving, and Soda wondered why exactly why they had come to school that day.

Finally the teacher noticed that Soda's eyes weren't on her, but on the roads. "It seems," she called loud enough for Soda to turn his head, "that our dear friend Sodapop is 'bored' with my class."

"Lady, are you right!" Steve Randle called at her, making the rest of the class roar in laughter. Soda snickered silently and turned his attention back to the snow.

"Thank you, Steve. I hope you don't mind staying with me till four, do you?" she asked as politely as she could.

"I'm pretty booked."

"I'll speak with you after class, Mr. Randle."

Smartly looking around the class, Steve grinned and said, "My dad ain't here."

"After class, Steve," she repeated, pointing a crooked finger his way. "Anyways, Sodapop, could you please join me up in the front?" she asked, extending her full hand his way. Soda pushed back some wheat colored hair and stood. Hooking his fingers in his belt loops, he came to her and stood next to her. "Now, hon, I have a new word for everyone, and I'd like for you to help us."

"Shoot," Soda scoffed.

"Now, now... I know you'll like these words."

"I don't like any words I can't spell," Soda told her.

"I know you'll like them," she repeated, "cause these words sound dirty, but really aren't."

Soda's eyes widened and a little smirk crossed his lips. "I'm a startin' to like these words."

The teacher smiled softly at him and turned for the flash cards. "Since we don't have much time, we'll do only two of them." She rifled through them, found the two cards she was looking for, and returned to her spot next to Sodapop. "Now," she said, "these two words just might be familiar to you all." Slowly she handed one to Soda, who read it and smiled. "Could you real it aloud?"

"Dam," Soda stated proudly, being able to 'curse' in school. The other kids roared in laughter again.

"And the definition?"

"'A body of water... con... confi... nined...'"

"Confined."

"Right, 'confined by a barrier.'" he said proudly.

"Good job, Soda."

Gently she took the card from his hands and replaced it. "Now, read this word for me."

"Hey, no matter how you say this one, it's not proper for school," Soda said in a suck-upish voice. The teacher nodded at the boy, encouraging him. "Alright. If I get suspended, I'm suing. Faggot."

All of the kids roared in laughter for the third time that day; Steve rolled out of his chair, clutching his stomach, and began to roll on the floor.

"Good job, Soda. Now the definition please?"

"A homo!" Steve yelped between laughs in the background.

The teacher narrowed her brows, pointed her crooked finger at the door, and said smoothly, "Out. Principal. Now."

Steve finished his laughter, rolled to his feet, and stumbled out of there, mumbling 'faggot' and 'homo' rapidly. The teacher smiled back at Soda, and repeated, "Definition?"

"Um, 'a pile of sticks.'"

After class, Soda met up with Steve in the hallway, who decided upon himself not to visit the principal, chuckling. "You missed the definition," Soda told him. "'A pile of sticks.'"

"We've been calling people a pile of sticks?" Steve asked with a smug grin. Soda smiled.

"Just wait till Darry hears about it."

* * *

Halfway home, Soda and Steve spotted a few of the upper class boys in their class. If Soda was right, they were Bob and Randy. Soda gave a little cocky smile at Steve, who was thinking the same thing. Both boys sucked in lungs full of air and yelled, "YOU PILES OF STICKS!" towards them. Bob looked over first, his eyes narrowed in confusion. He looked towards Randy, who was fuming a little. He whispered to Bob, and soon both shared the same fury. They came full blast at Soda and Steve, yelling at them.

* * *

Now both walked in the Curtis house, a little banged up bit, but both grinning from ear to ear. Darry was tossing a football back and forth with Mr. Curtis, who was Darry's height. Being seventeen, Darry was awful tall. Soda grinned up towards his father with pride, who returned the same happy smile. "What's goin' on, Soda?" he asked, ruffling his son's hair.

"We learned a new word. I betcha Dar knows it, though," Soda told his father.

"Really?" he asked.

Soda turned to Darry, smirked, and looked him square in the eye before saying, "You pile of sticks."

Darry pondered this for a moment before realizing what his younger brother said. "Soda!" he yelled, coming full blast at him. He caught him up in his arms and threw him into the couch, beginning to beat the living daylights out of his little brother, playfully of course. Soda was screeching all the same, telling Darry to lay off.

Mr. Curtis, still in the dark, turned to Steve and asked, "What?"

Steve smiled, "Soda basically said, 'You faggot,' to Darry."

"Oh," Mr. Curtis laughed, watching his sons battle on the couch. Steve was staring at the older man, wondering is he really should test his luck.

"Hey," he called up at him, deciding on trying it, "you pile of sticks."

* * *

**A/N: **Okay, that was what me and my friend Tamara really did, except we kept it in school. We did, however, call a few teachers 'a pile of sticks' without them finding out.

My other friend, Alex, would stand at the window in the classroom with his palms against the glass, looking outside, wanting out badly. I would stand behind him and say, "So close, but yet so far away." in his ear. It was pretty funny.

Zack would be the 'class clown' if someone was dubbed it. He would do the most random things and say the most random shit. That where I got Steve's personality. I tried not to make Steve how Pony displayed him in the book. I could imagine Zack saying, "A homo!" if anyone said "faggot" in class.


End file.
